


Part of Your World

by FlangstSteak, whaticameherefor



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, But like...serious crack y' know?, Crack, Disney Adaption, Fluff, Ian is a lovable mute goof, Light Angst, M/M, Mickey is a 'prince', mermaids and mermen, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlangstSteak/pseuds/FlangstSteak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whaticameherefor/pseuds/whaticameherefor
Summary: Ian just can't seem to stay away from the mysterious brunet man, returning to the same docks week after week just to watch him from afar. Longing to be part of the human world, Ian makes a deal to trade his tail for legs but they come at a price. He needs to get a true love's kiss from his grumpy mystery guy in just three days. As Ian gets more entrenched in the land above the water he learns that snagging a kiss from his 'prince' might actually be the easy part.Or: The Little Mermaid AU - Shameless Style
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 49
Kudos: 70





	Part of Your World

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I'm super excited to share this little fic with you, co-written by one of my besties. I've had to endure many nautical puns during this process and she's lucky that I love her so much to put up with her. Anyway, be sure to check out the beautiful art created by [Steorie](https://steorie.tumblr.com/post/630035291656404992/part-of-our-world-a-fanfic-coming-soon-by) for this fic. She's beyond amazing so please show her some love 💜
> 
> Also thank you to @wideblueskies for betaing, as per <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy this little AU and let us know what you think!

Far out in the water there is a man with hair aflame who watches another in the distance. He imagines eyes as blue as the petals of the loveliest cornflower and as clear as pure glass.

The merman is perched on a rock, eyes fixed on the sight from afar, waves gently lapping at the rock around him. The moon shines brightly in the night sky, giving him the perfect view of the man that has consumed his thoughts every night for the better part of a year. 

Ian has been coming to the docks for months. Ever since that night last winter when he had gotten brave and a little too bold, venturing further into the human world than he ever should have been. That night had been the first time he’d laid eyes on his dark-haired mystery man. 

Ian knew from the first moment he saw him that he needed to see him again. He was beautiful from a distance and Ian wanted to get a better look. And so he did, every visit sneaking closer and closer until he was able to make out his features. The other man’s pale skin glowed under the moonlight, and when the light hit them just right, Ian could see the man’s eyes, sparkling blue against the water.

Ian had caught the tail end of the mystery man’s activities that first night because he’d always been interested in the human world and he’d been visiting different docks and marinas around the area for a while. On this particular evening he found a reason to keep returning to one specific location. 

He went back every night for the next week to see if the man showed up again but was disappointed six straight times. But on the seventh night the mystery man was back at the secluded docks and Ian got to see him in action. 

Ian had come to learn that the man who had caught his attention was there each week but the company surrounding him would change. He’d stroll down the dock with one or two henchmen in tow, the same faces always in rotation, then a set of other men (never the same) would show up, they’d exchange something and the second group would leave. After talking amongst themselves for a few minutes, Ian’s mystery man would send his companions off while he stayed behind—to smoke a ‘cigarette’ as he had heard the man tell the others one of the first few nights he got close enough to hear them—sticking around long enough for the flaming little stick to diminish into a stub.

Ian loved those moments because when his mystery man was alone, leaning against a post and staring out onto the water, transfixed, there was something in his eyes—the look on his face struck a chord with Ian. He recognized the look in the other man’s expression as he gazed out on the horizon, it was the same look Ian had when he looked in on the human world. It was a look of yearning, longing, of wanting to be anywhere but where you actually were. He felt connected to this man, even though they’d never spoken. Ian hadn’t even really seen his face up close yet, but the pull he felt toward the man was powerful and it was something he’d never felt before.

Ian would remain with his mystery man, in a one-sided, silent conversation, watching as he brought the smoking stick up to his lips again and again until he would throw it down to the ground, stomp on it, and then head back up the docks and out of sight. 

Every time they turned away they each knew they would be returning to the same docks the following week. The mystery man to conduct whatever business he had, and Ian to get a little closer to being a part of his world. 

***

Every week it’s the same thing: the clients show up, Mickey accepts the payment, and then he sends them off to collect their product.

Terry lets the clients know the deal beforehand. Mickey doesn’t want to be negotiating or even making fucking small talk with the assholes. All Mickey wants to do is get it over with so he can have a moment to himself. He is constantly surrounded by people—at home, at work, everywhere he fucking goes—so when the opportunity presents itself for even a few moments of peace, of quiet contemplation, he seizes it. His weekly trip down to conduct business allows for the alone time he craves but never seems to be able to savor. 

It’s safer for the clients to know the score coming in—usually, that means no funny business—and normally, he would have at least one other brother or cousin with him as back up, but it just so happened that _everyone_ was busy that night. 

Terry had made quite a name for himself in the Chicago territory; he had the city covered, but no matter how much ground he gained it was never enough. He was greedy and sloppy and with each push for expansion, Mickey feared Terry’s precious empire would soon collapse.

Terry was adamant that this meeting could not be rescheduled. It was a new potential client and Terry didn’t want to miss out. So here Mickey is, all by his lonesome because God forbid you go against Terry’s orders. 

_Fuckin’ Terry._

The sounds of a car approaching sparks an uneasy churning in Mickey’s gut. He doesn’t have any information on these potential clients and he hates the uncertainty he feels as he waits for them to emerge from their vehicle. He hopes there are only two people to deal with; if shit goes south, it’s a lot better odds that he won’t end up sleeping with the fishes tonight if it’s two and not three. As luck would have it, out pour just two giant Tony Soprano-looking wannabes. Mickey thinks he could definitely take one, but both might be a challenge, and he just hopes it won’t come to blows to test that theory. 

Car doors slam shut and the gravel crunches as the clients head towards Mickey. The men rounding the corner down to Mickey’s post is his cue to take one last drag before stubbing out his cigarette with the heel of his boot. _Let’s get this over with,_ Mickey thinks before turning to face the two men headed in his direction. Throwing on his best ‘down to business’ bravado, Mickey slips back into his role as the second in command of the Milkovich empire. 

The thugs walking over are typical upper management drug dealer types. Dressed in clothes that are indistinguishable from your average person, so they don’t draw too much attention to themselves, yet made of expensive materials to highlight how important they consider themselves. Their uniform of pressed pants and button down shirts presents an image more wholesome than the wearers actually are. Mickey has become accustomed to working with these kinds of career criminals, as Terry’s drug deals began to grow from small dime bags on the streets to kilos moved in undisclosed boat slips in the early hours of the morning. Hopefully, these guys wouldn’t be a problem. 

“Where’s Terry?” Italian number one asks, sizing Mickey up. 

“Not here; I’m the one in charge of the drops,” Mickey replies confidently. 

“He didn’t say nothing ‘bout meeting with some underling,” the gangster sidekick pipes up. 

Terry _should_ have told these idiots what the process was. Maybe they just didn’t get the fucking memo, or maybe they thought they could pull one over on him since he was flying solo, but he didn’t have the patience to be dealing with these fuckheads right now. 

“I’m his fucking son,” Mickey responds aggressively. “You deal with him upfront, then you deal with me on the backend. I’m the one who handles these arrangements. This is how it always goes down.” 

“Oh, ho ho, the king of the Southside thinks he’s too good to meet with us when we’re about to give him some new business?” Italian number one huffs. 

Mickey snickers to himself. “If he’s the king then that makes me the goddamn prince, doesn’t it? I’m Southside royalty.” Mickey stands up tall, trying to make himself as intimidating as possible. For he is fierce, but he is small. “Look, this is how it’s gonna go down. You hand me the money, I’ll let the guys know that you’re good, then you go pick it up at the next dock over.” 

“Listen, _prince_ , I’m not handing over shit to you until I actually see what I’m buying.” Capone points a grubby fat finger at Mickey with increasing frustration apparent on his face. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. You know the deal, take it or leave it. You know the Milkovich name, no one’s questioned this before and no one’s been left with buyer’s remorse. This is what you agreed to when you met with my dad and for wantin’ to do business with us tonight.”

“He told you he isn’t handing over shit until you show us what we get,” the sidekick yaps. 

“Alright, you Italian orangutan, if you don’t like the deal, you can just fuck off.” 

_Ah, fuck._ Mickey knows he struck a nerve with the man as he comes closer and shoves him forcefully in the chest. 

“Hey, fuck off!” Mickey pushes back. 

“I don’t know where you get off insulting me. You and your dad think you’re hot shit, but there are new players in town and we won’t stand for this kind of treatment,” Michaelangelo growls. 

_Great, it’s gonna be that kind of night._ Mickey knows he’s in trouble when the sidekick reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a gun. Mickey weighs his options quickly. No way he’d be able to pull out his piece before the guy starts shooting. Does he stand up and face the man now pointing a gun at him, or does he take his chances with the watery depths by throwing himself blindly into the lake and attempt to doggy paddle to safety?

Could he make a break for it and actually live?

He sure fuckin’ hopes so. 

As Mickey’s making up his mind he hears the gunshots ring out and in the worst split-second decision he’s ever made—because he can’t fucking swim— Mickey throws himself into the murky lake waters, where the strong possibility of death awaits. 

***

Ian holds his breath as he waits for the brunet to surface. He’d already been on high alert since he’d seen that the man was all alone that night—he was never alone— and Ian didn’t have a great feeling about it. When he heard shouting and loud banging noises followed by the mystery man diving off the docks his worry spiked. 

_Oh shit! Please resurface! Please, please, please!!!_

A wave of panic washes over Ian as he remembers watching the self-proclaimed “prince” of the Southside fall into the water and not come up for air. There’s still no sign of him. The other two men wait for a while for the guy to resurface, but satisfied that they’ve managed to hit him when they aimed their weapons blindly into the water, left after a cursory few minutes of searching. 

_What do I do?_ He knew he shouldn't get too close to people above the water, but he also knew if he did nothing then the man would surely die. And the man fell into the water, so he was in Ian’s domain, right?

Each passing moment is another one wasted. “Fuck this” Ian says aloud to no one in particular as he springs into action. Once he decides to do it, he doesn’t even think, he acts on instinct, immediately diving under the water and across the lake floor to where the man had fallen in.

He frantically searches in the dark and after a few tense moments sees the prince’s limp body at the bottom of the lake illuminated faintly by the lights coming from the docks. Ian is momentarily stunned as the man’s eyes flutter open briefly, staring silently until Ian reaches a hand out to cup his cheek. His mystery man’s eyes fall closed again and Ian grabs the man under his arms and uses all his strength to get the human out of the water. As soon as they break the surface Ian holds the prince up and his head slumps over. Trying not to panic, Ian silently prays to Poseidon for the prince to move, yet he does not stir. 

Ian knows he needs to get the unconscious man out of the water—and fast—so he starts to swim towards a beach he spots off in the distance. With considerable effort, Ian manages to drag the man onto the sand and places his ear near his chest to listen for any signs of life. 

A second wave washes over Ian, this time of relief when he hears a faint thump inside the man’s chest. A huge weight is lifted as he waits at the prince’s side. He wants to be close to the man, needs to make sure he will truly be okay, but he doesn’t know what to do beyond what he’s already done. On a whim, he starts pushing on the brunet’s chest in an effort to mimic how he knows humans breathe. He stops and starts repetitions frantically until finally the human surges up slightly, coughs, and chokes out a dribble of water before slumping back down.

He doesn’t wake up again but appears to be breathing and so all Ian can do is wait, occasionally begging the prince to stay with him, pleading with him to wake up.

Night begins to turn to dawn while Ian waits by the man’s side on the isolated beach, not waiting to leave him alone, the yellow glow of a new day illuminates the man’s face next to him. In that soft pre-dawn light, Ian realizes that this is the first time he can stare up close at this man he has been observing for so long. Not wasting a moment, Ian gazes at the prince. As Ian looks at his face fully, he takes in the man’s soft pale skin, smooth dark hair, lush pink lips, and perfectly sculpted features. There is no denying it—the man is beautiful. 

Ian had become used to seeing and admiring the man from afar. Now that he is able to do so purposely and openly, his chest fills with the warmth of excitement and desire. Ian takes his time looking, committing to memory all the small details he can: the small faded scar under his chin, the way his hair dries slightly poofy, the slope of his nose, the faint freckles on his porcelain skin. 

When the man begins to groan and stir, Ian knows his time spent up close with the man is coming to an end. Ian turns his attention back and forth to the horizon of the lake and the man’s face beside him, trying to gauge how much longer he can push his luck. With time running out, and the man gaining more consciousness by the minute, Ian knows he must head in the opposite direction of the beach. Before he does, Ian places his palm on the man’s face in a silent goodbye.

Back in the water, Ian swims out a decent distance from the beach and only when Ian knows he is far enough away he looks back in time to see the man stand up on the beach. It is in that moment that Ian makes a promise to himself—that this encounter will not be their last. Ian will find a way to see the man again, and this time Ian will make sure he will be remembered. 

With one last look back to his prince standing on the beach, Ian enters the water and heads back to his home. 

***

Mickey awakes with his hand on his cheek, feeling the phantom touch of another, as the sound of waves hitting the shore registers in his mind. He begins to stir and feels the coarse, cold sand under his hands when he attempts to sit up right. 

_How the fuck did I end up here?_ Mickey’s mind is strangely blank except for that single thought. 

He figures it must be early in the morning, needing to shield his eyes from the sun beating down on him as he attempts to look around. From where he’s sitting on the beach, he can see over to the docks— the very docks that he had thrown himself from in the quiet darkness before the sunrise. 

The sun is high in the sky, and in the early morning light those docks now seem impossibly far away from the beach. It’s not too great a distance probably for anyone else, but no way would he have been able to fucking swim that far. 

_Seriously, what the fuck happened?_ _Is this what people call a miracle or something?_

He stands on the beach and gets his bearings while replaying the moments that led him to this spot. 

Fuck, he almost died, hadn’t he? Maybe he _did_ die? Was this heaven? Is this what heaven looked like? Why the fuck would heaven look like the shitty shoreline of Lake Michigan? Shit, he was probably in hell.

Mickey realizes he’s just another poor southside kid who never got the opportunity to learn how to swim and the fact that he is alive must be the result of some kind of divine intervention. There was never time to be taught how to swim with a mom who died when he was young, and a dad more intent on teaching him how to be a drug kingpin than how to do the backstroke. Mickey almost died because Terry was a piece of shit.

He recalls that the night before started like it usually did. He waited on the docks for a drop, but then there was an altercation. The deal had clearly gone wrong. There was shouting, a gun pointed at him, panic as his body hit the water, a struggle to get air, vision beginning to fade, and then a pair of strong hands dragging him through the water... 

_Strong hands?!_ Mickey’s heard stories of people having near death experiences, recounting the events and describing the feeling of some kind of guardian angel or force that saved them, but Mickey always dismissed those stories as bullshit. Just some crazy person who was losing it, at what they thought was the end, trying to make sense of it all. Yet, as he stands on the beach, he can’t shake the feeling of strong hands grabbing him and pulling him to safety. And for some reason there’s flashes of anxious green eyes surrounded by a red halo, a melodic voice coaxing Mickey to stay with him.

 _Maybe, I **am** going crazy like those other people. _Mickey brushes sand out of his hair, off his clothes, hell, he’ll probably be finding sand in places sand shouldn’t be for a week if he slept on the beach. He’s always known Terry’s ruthless lifestyle would get him killed one day, and if it was not for _divine intervention_ , or sheer dumb luck, or whatever the fuck happened, today could’ve been the day. 

Who knows, maybe Mickey does have a guardian angel looking out for him but he’s not fully convinced. There is one thing that’s certain in Mickey’s mind: he is going to get the FUCK away from Terry and out of this life before he actually does die. 

This isn’t the first time things went awry, there had been other near misses involving cops or guns that he thankfully got away from unscathed. This was different. This was too close to whatever light there would be waiting for him at the fucked up tunnel that is Mickey’s life. With that thought, and a force of habit, Mickey reaches for a rectangular silver pendant hanging from his neck, but he finds nothing there. 

Great. The last thing that his mother gave him before she died—gone. Lost to Lake Michigan, probably never to be found again. Just count it as something else to add fuel to the flame of Mickey’s resolve. He is going to get the fuck out.

***

Lip is fucking furious. He knew Ian was up to something after he realized his brother had been sneaking out of their home on a weekly basis for months now. At first, Lip had thought Ian was just exploring the surrounding area—Ian had always been curious and filled with wanderlust— or maybe running off to meet up with a secret lover for forbidden trysts. And really, who was Lip to prevent his little brother from getting some tail? 

He figured out the pattern pretty quickly because Ian was shit at playing things cool and well, curiosity got the better of him one night. Lip had to see what was so special about whatever kept his brother coming back week after week. 

After eight solid weeks of Ian’s new weekly routine, Lip had followed him one night and what he had found made him seethe with anger. Ian was getting way too close to the human world and it was all because of a little schoolboy crush on a measly human. He saw the moony look on his brother’s face as he stared at the unimpressive and short in stature bipedal creature. Lip didn’t get it; he never understood Ian’s fascination with the human world, his obsession with the inhabitants of the land above the water. But at least Ian was being smart enough to keep his distance. 

Lip didn’t confront Ian. Instead, he continued checking up on him every few weeks to make sure Ian stayed far enough away from the object of his desire. But to his dismay and increasing frustration, each time he checked up on Ian, Ian had ventured closer. If Lip didn’t know any better he would have sworn Ian would sprout legs and walk on the land before long; that’s how close Ian was getting. Soon enough he’d be close enough to interact with the human and if that happened—well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be a pretty picture.

Lip supposed it was kismet that on one of the nights he decided to follow Ian, Ian had done the very thing he feared. This night just felt different from the start; Ian was anxious and tense, Lip could see it from his hiding point, and it didn’t take long for the whole fucking situation to capsize. After Lip saw the smaller, darker haired human fall into the water he was initially relieved and thought that, maybe, just maybe, this would be the answer to Ian’s problem and force his brother to stop his human-stalking. But no, what does Ian do? He chooses to save—actually _fucking_ save—this good for nothing nuisance with legs. To Lip, observing the human world is one thing, he can see how they could be fascinating from a purely scientific standpoint, but never in Lip’s mind did he think Ian would do something like full-on interfere with the ongoings of the human world. Ian had put himself—and the entire underwater kingdom—in real danger. All for a stupid fucking crush. 

Ian _actively_ went against the merfolk commandments. Staying away from humans was rule number one. Lip knows his brother can have moments or rashness that border on stupidity, but he has never witnessed Ian do anything this reckless and idiotic before. Lip knows Ian will probably hate him forever, but he has to intervene. He has to tell Fiona before Ian gets himself—or worse, their entire community— exposed and possibly even killed.

“He did what?” Fiona shouts upon hearing Lip give her the rundown of what their little brother had been doing and his activities the night before. 

“I’m telling you Fi, he saved a human,” Lip replies. 

“Wha— what, why, WHY the hell would he go and do that? He knows the code, he knows how dangerous that is. What would possess him to do something like that?” 

“I don’t know, but we need to put an end to this now.” 

“Where the hell is he? I’m gonna kill him!”

Just then, they overhear Ian coming their way. As he approaches, Ian is plucking the petals off a sea plant, reciting, “He loves me, he loves me not.” He gets to the last petal and pulls it off, clutches it to his chest, sighing, “He loves me.”

 _“_ Are you fucking kidding me _?”_ Lip roars.

Lip can tell Ian knows he’s about to be hung up to dry by the way his face immediately deflates, his hands dropping to his sides as the plant floats gracefully to the floor. Ian’s already gone on this guy and Lip can’t let it go on any longer; now’s a good a time as any for their intervention. They need to talk some sense into Ian now before he tries to do something even dumber next time. And if Lip has anything to do with it, there will _never_ be a next time.

“What’s going on guys?” Ian asks cautiously.

Lip and Fiona look at each other, silently battling over who should speak first. Lip rolls his eyes and figures he might as well put it as bluntly as he can. 

“You need to stay the fuck away from humans!” Lip begins sharply. “ Look, I know you’ve been sneaking out every week to visit your little human friend. I can get past that, it’s not great, but whatever, it was just looking. I never thought you’d actually get close to one, let alone save one of those stupid creatures. This needs to end, RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” He’s yelling, he knows that, but fuck it, he’s pissed.

“Wh-what, how?” Ian tries to get the words out, looking shocked as hell.

Lip laughs cruelly. “Did you actually think you were fooling anyone? That you’re slick enough to get away with this? We share a room, dude. And you’re not exactly stealthy, Ian.”

“So it’s true?” Fiona’s eyes are widening and Lip knows she’s feeling betrayed. “I didn’t want to believe it, but your face says it all. Ian, how can you be so stupid?” 

Ian rears back, the current from the swift movement startling Lip. Ian didn’t expect Fiona to be so upset with him, that much is clear, but how else are they going to get it through to Ian just how foolish he was being?

“Don’t you remember the fable of Ariel? We’ve been hearing that story since we were kids, it’s supposed to be a warning! Getting involved with humans and all their shit is like a riptide. It’ll pull you and all of us under.” 

Ian purses his lips indignantly, not looking the slightest bit contrite. “That’s just a story to scare us, Fiona. Bullshit Frank and Monica told us to keep us in line when we were kids. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen of the human world. I've been watching, and most of them—they aren't that bad. They’re just like us!” 

Lip aggressively points a finger at Ian. “You dense sponge! Do you want to turn into seafoam? Because this behavior is a one way current to becoming seafoam. Humans will harm you given the chance, they will kill you without a second thought and flay you like a goddamn fish. They’re dangerous—look at how they ambush each other! The one you saved was under attack, why do you think that is? Because they are all dangerous, even to themselves. You should’ve let him drown. You endangered us all.” 

“Let him drown!?! They’re living, breathing creatures, Lip! Just because they have legs and they can walk, or run, and the little ones can play all day in the sun, that doesn’t make them so different from us. Besides, I’m not going to sit by and watch something die when I can help. I could never live with myself if I turned my back on someone in trouble.”

“They might be similar to us, but they aren’t us, “ Fiona insists. “We’re peaceful creatures and they’re not, they’re horrible and you shouldn’t care about whether they live or die. It’s none of our business what they do on the land. Your life is here, under the sea.”

“Peaceful creatures? Are you fucking kidding me? You know who our parents are, right? Do you really think that the best human is honestly worse than either of those two shitbags?” Ian scoffs. 

“Enough!” Lip demands. “It doesn’t matter. Put a stop to this. _Now!_ You’re not a human and we’ll make damn sure you don’t sneak out for any more late-night voyeur voyages from now on. You can’t be stupid enough to think you actually had a chance with this human. Let him go!” 

“Fuck you, Lip!” Ian yells as he shoves past his siblings. “I’ll prove to you they aren’t all as bad as you say.” 

Before Lip can respond, Ian is already zooming away, his tail pumping forcefully as he flees from their home. Lip and Fiona share a tense glance. “Fuck, this is gonna be a problem,” Lip grumbles to Fiona, her eyes wide and fearful. 

Lip can do nothing as he watches their brother swim away to do gods know what. Ian has always been a rogue wave, unpredictable and larger than life, but capable of causing great destruction, Lip just never thought he’d make wreckage of their entire way of life. 

Yeah, this was going to be a big fucking problem, indeed. 

***

A sinister smile spreads across her face as she hears someone shout from the entrance of her cave. _I wonder who this could be?_ She amuses herself, thinking of all the potential ways that she could be of “assistance” to this unfortunate victim who would undoubtedly be in need of assistance—and she’s always happy to help—for a price. 

But what can she do? She tries to help all the lost creatures that seek out her support—she really does—but it’s not her fault those fools are usually unable to hold up their end of the bargain. After all, magic always comes at a cost. Nothing in this world comes for free and as a sea witch, she makes her living by curating contracts with the downtrodden and the rejected, those with nowhere else to turn. For every magical favor she grants, there needs to be an equivalent consequence; it is just the way it works. Who works for nothing? 

No one. Definitely not Paula. 

“Hello?” Ian’s voice pauses. “Paula? Are you there?” 

_Ahh, here comes another soul now._ Paula looks at her reflection in her magic sea glass, tucks in her hair, and readies herself to be the most beguiling and benevolent bewitcher for the approaching merman. 

“Ohhh, Ian, so good to see you.” She fawns over the young man as he swims up to her, placing her hand on her chest. “What can I do for you, my poor boy? What woes have befallen you that lead you here today?” Paula asks with a convincing tenderness, using a tentacle to move a stray hair of Ian’s from his face while her hands grab his, and a few tentacles wrap themselves around his torso, holding him in place a little too tightly. 

Ian, stuck facing her, looks unsure as he glances down at his hands and body held firmly in Paula’s grasp, but there is some determination in his eyes when he begins to speak. 

“Well, I’ve been seeing this human for the last few months and... I think I love him. Last night I saved him when I thought he was going to die, and I don’t think I did anything wrong but my family thinks all humans are bad and I should have let him drown. I need to show them that humans aren’t as bad as they make them out to be. And I want to be with him—my human.”

She raises a tentacle to her chin in thought. “My dear Ian, I am glad you came to me because I have a solution. The only way to get what you want is to become a human yourself.” 

She lets go of Ian’s hands and brings her own up to her hips, loosening the hold on his body. Free from her clutches, Ian’s brows arch with interest. “How can I do that?”

“Fortunately for you, I know a little magic. It is a talent I have always possessed, you see. And I like to use it on behalf of those downtrodden and depressed,” she says in a singsong voice. “Like yourself,” she adds as she points over to Ian at the last words. “I know just what to do.” 

Paula moves over to a rocky basin in the middle of the cave and waves a hand over it. In the process, her magic illuminates the cave with a purple glow emanating from the center of the basin. She looks pleased and begins to creep around the room checking on various ingredients in different corked bottles on shelves all around. Using her tentacles to reach far away items, she uses her hands to lift the bottles closer to her face for inspection. Whenever she deems one good enough she takes the bottle and throws it into the basin, shattering the glass, which changes the color of the light coming from the basin. After the third bottle, and the cave lighting changing from green to yellow, Ian speaks up. 

“I know you’re a sea witch, but how is all of this going to help me become human?” he inquires tentatively. 

“Oh, those rumors about me are just that,” Paula dismisses with a casual wave over her shoulder. “I know my reputation hasn’t been the best, but I promise I have mended my ways. There is no need to call me a witch.” She turns to Ian and gives him her best wide-toothed smile. 

Paula picks up another bottle and examines it but decides to put it back on the shelf. “Ian, I've helped merfolk with all kinds of issues. Those longing to be thinner or those wanting to get the girl and now, yes, it may have happened once or twice—” she turns to face Ian with a regretful look “—there might have been some who were not able to pay the price, but don’t worry darling. That almost never happens. And those very, very few people are not you.” She waves a tentacle up and down in front of Ian for emphasis. 

Ian just stares at Paula as she continues to glide around in her show of making the potion. 

“Do not worry sweet, innocent Ian. This is the only way to go up there and meet your little human-boo. And if you get him to fall in love with you, you’ll become human forever! Isn’t that exciting?”

“But if I become human, I won’t ever see my family again. I’m mad at them but I don’t want to lose them forever. Is there really no other way?”

“Do you really want to stay down here with the rest of your ignorant family? Would you rather your human be lost to you forever instead?” She levels a long penetrating stare at Ian, imparting that there really is no other option for him. 

Ian contemplates his options, biting his lip while he deliberates. “Okay,” he finally decides. “I’ll do it.”

Paula tries to rein in her excitement. _Now for the final piece of the puzzle._ With that, Paula snaps her fingers and a contract appears out of nowhere in the space next to her, along with a spiney pen. “Wonderful! Now Ian, I am a very busy woman I don’t have all day, so let’s discuss payment. This won’t cost much—just your voice.” 

“My voice?” Ian asks, surprised. 

Paula stops her production, and looks put off by Ian’s response. She begins to advance on him. “Ian, let me tell you. I’ve seen men on the surface and they do not like a bunch of chit chat. They think a person who blabbers is a bore.” She uses a hand to mimic a mouth opening and closing while rolling her eyes in exaggerated boredom. “And this man that makes your heart rattle—well, trust me—I bet he does _not_ like to engage in endless prattle. It is those who hold their tongue that get the attention. Trust me dear.” Paula shakes her head as if this is common knowledge that Ian should know.

“But, how can I get him to notice me?” 

“Ian, you have your looks and your sun-kissed hair. And most importantly, don’t underestimate the power of body language,” she says with a cackle as she sways her hips side to side seductively. 

“But it’s my voice,” Ian responds, holding his hand to his throat. 

“Ian, Ian, Ian.” She enunciates each word with an air of superiority, “This is how it is done. A pair of legs for your voice. Gain one possession, lose another. How do you think magic works?” 

It’s clear from Ian’s face that he has never considered how her magic works. Foolish boy.

“To give you legs I need to take something away. Magic has its limits. Once you take the potion you have three days—that is more than enough time to get this man’s attention. Three days and you must seal the deal with a kiss, and not just any kiss—it must be true love’s kiss.”

“True love’s kiss? That doesn’t sound so easy...” 

“Ian, three days is _such_ a long time, and this is just the cost of doing business. If you want to cross the bridge then you need to pay the toll.” _So bitch sign the fucking scroll,_ she adds internally, blood boiling. 

Paula tries to relax; she does not want Ian to see her increased annoyance with him. 

“Don’t overthink this.” She pushes the contract and pen over to Ian, urging him to sign. "Else you’ll be doomed to never knowing what could have happened with you and this love of yours.” She comes up behind Ian and rubs his arms in what she hopes is a soothing gesture and adds in a sugary sweet voice. “How else will you get this man and prove to your family how good humans are? Besides, what better reason is there than love?” 

Paula moves away from Ian and towards the basin where she takes the last bottle in her hand and adds its contents to the bowl. The room is then thrown into a dark red hue and Ian clenches his fists, nodding to himself as he makes his final decision. He reaches for the pen and places it to the paper.

“Perfect.” She watches Ian sign his voice away, silently cataloguing the merman’s voice amongst her collection. With his signature in place there is a sudden rush of water and Ian grabs his throat as his mouth opens up. The current takes Ian’s voice away and toward a silver object that Paula is now holding in her hand. 

Ian's voice now in her possession, Paula looks pleased, moving her hand to magically scoop up the concoction inside the basin before placing it in an empty bottle to hand to Ian. The room returns to its normal hue as Paula hands Ian the filled bottle. 

“Now, all you have to do is take this close to land and wait for your legs to appear. And remember, within three days from your transformation, _three days_ , you will need to get your kiss.” 

Ian opens his mouth to respond, but looks stricken when nothing comes out. His choice already made, there’s no turning back now. Bottle in hand, he nods resolutely and turns to leave. 

Satisfied with a signed contract, Paula watches Ian swim away from the cave and she thinks proudly to herself, _What can I say? I seem to have a way with those poor unfortunate souls_.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://whaticameherefor.tumblr.com/) and come talk about Ian and Mickey with me!


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